


An Invitation

by Koumine (thesecretsavant)



Series: Kai [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Begging, Bottom Din Djarin, Devaronians (Star Wars), Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Frottage, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Mando'a, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Pre-Canon, Submissive Male, Subspace, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Woman With A Penis, kink: held down, submissive Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25461412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretsavant/pseuds/Koumine
Summary: “So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Kai said, before her courage deserted her.  She extended her hand into the middle of the table, palm up, open, an invitation.The Mandalorian put his hand in hers.  Not a warriors’ clasp of arm to arm, but something more intimate, even with his hand still gloved.  “Yeah?”  He said, voice a little rough.Kai smiled at him, hopelessly charmed, as always.  “Are you, by any chance, looking for a Domme?”
Relationships: Kai Darso (Original Character)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Kai [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843969
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44
Collections: Discord Community Archive, Star Wars Fanfiction Discord





	An Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Because there's not enough femdom in this fandom.
> 
> Mando'a translations in the end notes. Headcanons relevant to this fic are [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458160/chapters/61750459).

_\--- 3 hours, 53 minutes ago ---_

To: Mandalorian

_Your item’s ready. Let me know when you want to pick it up._

From: Mandalorian

_4 hours. Can you meet me at my ship?_

To: Mandalorian

_Sure._

_\--- 2 minutes ago ---_

From: Mandalorian

_[Nevarro planetary coordinates attached]_

To: Mandalorian

□□□

From: Mandalorian

_I keep telling you, I don’t have your Devaronian emojis on my datapad. I can’t see those._

To: Mandalorian

_And I keep telling you to just download them, old man, they’re free._

From: Mandalorian

_You’re older than me._

To: Mandalorian

_Old MANdo. Ha!_

_\--- Now ---_

From: Mandalorian

_[audio message, 2.6s]_

Kai paused next to her speederbike and tapped the audio message to listen to it, already with the corner of her mouth curling upward in anticipation of the rare and coveted Mandalorian audio message. The message was just a pronounced sigh, familiar after these few years of knowing the Mandalorian, except --

She jabbed the message again and held her datapad up to her pointed ear, covering the other ear to block out the sound of Jawas haggling in front of the next building over. _Sigh_ , went the recording, and she gaped blankly at her datapad for a moment. The audio was crisp and clear and unaffected by a helmet’s audio modulation; the Mandalorian had sent her a message recorded with his helmet off. That was a first. Kai let the grin bloom its way across her face -- ignoring the Jawas squeaking and scurrying away at the sight of her sharp teeth -- double checked her knapsack, and mounted her bike. 

Maybe it didn’t mean anything. But maybe it did.

She started the speederbike and drove. 

\---

\--- _Now ---_

To: Mandalorian

_[audio message, 2.4s: “Knock knock, I’m here.”]_

Kai waited on her speederbike while the _Razor Crest’_ s aft ramp slowly lowered. There was a line impressed into the coarse black dirt where the end of the ramp had already touched the ground at least once, as well as a myriad of overlapping footprints all around, so the Mandalorian must have already had his latest quarries offloaded. 

The Mandalorian dropped down from the cockpit as the ramp finished extending. “Kai. Come in.”

“Hey Mando,” she replied, and boarded the ship, walking her bike in with her. She parked it at the end of the hold, beside the rack of empty carbonite hover pallets. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he replied. He was looking at his vambrace instead of at her, closing the ramp again for privacy. He was always a little awkward at first, every time they met in person, as though they became strangers again without the buffer of datapads and a holonet connection between them. Most people would have called it standoffishness, but Kai knew the Mandalorian a little better than that, knew that it would pass soon enough. And she knew that the quickest way to encourage the awkwardness to pass was to cheerfully annoy him a bit.

So she pulled a crate up to the little table and sat on it, instead of using the single actual chair he owned, which he always tried to offer to her, and which she always ignored in favor of selecting one of the crates (never the same one twice) and sitting on it instead. He looked at her then, radiating exasperation because he knew exactly what she was doing, and Kai smiled serenely back at him. 

The Mandalorian also hated small talk. “So how were your jobs this time?” Kai asked innocently; this was another well-worn Mando-irritation tactic. “Go anywhere interesting?” She put her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, leaning in avidly toward him to receive the no doubt scintillating tales he would definitely weave for her entertainment.

The Mandalorian sat down, in his single actual chair, with the tiniest huff. Kai could practically _feel_ him suppressing the sigh, and she smiled even more brightly. “No,” he said, descriptively. “And they were fine.”

“ _Wonderful_ ,” Kai exclaimed in the most ebullient voice she could produce, and finally he broke, turning his head to the side briefly in his version of a dramatic eye-roll and sighing too for good measure. 

Most important task of the day accomplished, Kai threw him a wink and deposited the package on the table. “As requested, one new scramble key, plus connection cables compatible with New Republic security systems.”

The Mandalorian picked up each item, looked them over cursorily, and nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and handed over the credits. 

Kai handed back the extra creds he tried to slip in with the agreed-upon amount. “Must you do this every time?” 

“Must _you_?” He retorted. “Just take the creds. _As a token of my appreciation_ ,” he added, so sardonically it had to be sincere, and pushed the creds back into Kai’s hand. 

Kai made a face at him. “I could never accept a gift without reciprocating it,” she said seriously, and then, before he could reply, continued, “so it’s a good thing I came prepared!” And she whipped the transparent plasticine container of _uj’alayi_ out of her knapsack and slapped it into the Mandalorian’s hands. 

Silence. The Mandalorian sat and stared down at the container. Kai sat and stared at him, curling and uncurling her toes in her boots to keep from fidgeting visibly. That wasn’t the reaction she had expected. 

“You -- “ The Mandalorian cleared his throat. “Did you make this?”

“Yeah,” Kai said. “I, uh, I know the spices aren’t exactly right, they’re just the ones I usually use since they’re relatively easy to get here, and I think the overall flavor is pretty close to what it should be, though I suppose you can judge that for yourself, if you, um, yeah.” Shut it down, Kai, you’re rambling.

The Mandalorian looked up at her finally, catching her gaze with eyes hidden behind the solemn helm’s T-visor. “You made this for me,” he said uncertainly, half statement, half question.

“Yeah,” Kai said again. “I, well, I just thought, you’re always on the move, so you probably eat a lot of ration bars, and you know I’ve eaten enough of those myself to know how utterly flavorless they are, but you also need food that will keep for awhile, and you know how the saying goes that _uj’alayi_ has a longer shelf-life than the one who made it, so I just thought that I would, um, yes.” She took a deep breath and made herself stop.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian said softly, some unidentifiable emotion lurking in his tone that Kai had never heard before, but immediately wanted to hear again. He opened the container and lifted the whole thing to his face and inhaled, the same way Kai had when she’d packed it that morning, the same way that she had as an adolescent every time her _buir_ made another batch, because it smelled like _Manda'yaim_ , like home. She wondered if the Mandalorian could even smell the _uj’alayi_ through his helmet filters, or, as he slowly lowered and closed the container, if he too was remembering. 

“So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Kai said, before her courage deserted her. She extended her hand into the middle of the table, palm up, open, an invitation.

The Mandalorian put his hand in hers. Not a warriors’ clasp of arm to arm, but something more intimate, even with his hand still gloved. “Yeah?” He said, voice a little rough.

Kai smiled at him, hopelessly charmed, as always. “Are you, by any chance, looking for a Domme?”

“… Yes,” he said slowly.

“Well, how about me?” She asked.

His hand tightened on hers, but he said, “I thought -- Devaronians don’t have dynamics.”

  
“Not the way humans do,” Kai agreed. “We’re not born to be a Domme or Sub; doing scenes isn’t a necessity for us. But I _am_ a Domme, and, and I’ve been researching what human Subs generally need, and it all sounds like what I would want to do for you anyway.” She took a deep breath, hoping that he could read the yearning written honestly on her face. “I’d like to take care of you, as your Domme. If you’ll let me.”

He swallowed. “You know I still won’t be able to show you my face.”

“I know,” Kai said. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“Then, yes,” the Mandalorian said, his voice turned so soft again that Kai felt it like a punch to the heart. “I’d like that very much.”

Kai beamed, and lifted his hand, and bent her head to kiss his knuckles -- and he gasped, a tiny sound with the impact of a thunderclap. “Is this ok?” She asked. 

“Ye--Yes,” he said, a little unevenly. “I --” And then he stopped, falling silent.

“Can you tell me what you want, sweetheart?” Kai asked gently. 

He gave a nearly imperceptible shiver at that, one that Kai might not have noticed if she weren’t holding his hand. Apparently he was in favor of _sweetheart_. “What should I call you?” He asked instead of answering.

“Just Kai is fine,” Kai said. “Or _ma’am_ , if you like that better. I’m not really into fancy titles.”

“Okay,” he said very quietly. 

Kai waited, trying to give him time to think, to tell her what he wanted, but almost without realizing it, she caressed her thumb across his knuckles. He inhaled again, seeming transfixed as her red thumb traced across his glove along the seams joining yellow-orange leather to black, across one way and then back again. Kai was just as transfixed watching him, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, marveling at the warmth of his hand even through the glove. Intimacy was relative, she thought, relative to and limited by the experiences available to you. Between Kai and any of her previous partners, this would have been little more than flirting. But with the Mandalorian, with the way that he kept himself apart from most others for his Creed -- and, Kai believed, for himself -- this small gesture meant so much more.

She wondered whether he had been able to do a scene recently, to get the care he needed; she decided to just ask, knowing that if he didn’t want to answer, he would likely just say so. “Has it been a while since your last scene?”

“No,” the Mandalorian replied haltingly, “my _alor_ always makes sure that I get what I need. But she doesn’t really touch me. Not … not like this.”

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this?” She asked, curious.

He made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh and admitted, “No one’s _ever_ touched me like this.” Then he ducked his head just a little -- Kai imagined him biting his lip harmlessly the way humans did and looking up at her with a rare shyness -- and added, “ma’am.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Kai said frankly. It only made her want to touch him more, to give him everything good and soft that no one else had thought to give him. She put her other hand on top of his, then, and asked, “May I take off your glove, sweetheart?” 

“Y-yes,” the Mandalorian said, shaky but sure, so Kai delicately grasped the fingertips of the glove and the cuff, letting her fingers play over the bare, soft skin at his wrist as she did so, and reverently removed the glove from his hand. He gasped again as Kai took his pale human hand in hers, keeping her eyes on him as she once again brushed her lips against knuckles she could see now were faintly scarred from years of fighting. 

And she turned his hand and pressed the blaster-callused palm against her own cheek with a content hum, reaching across the tiny table to mirror him with her own hand pressed to the cheek of his helmet, and leaned over to kiss him the Mandalorian way, forehead to beskar helmet. He leaned into it hard, a tiny noise escaping the back of his throat.

“I want to see you,” Kai murmured, “as much as you can show me. And I want to touch you, sweetheart, make you feel good.” 

He shivered again, exhaled a long breath.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the Mandalorian whispered finally. 

Kai stood and rounded the table, taking both of his hands to pull him to his feet (the chair nudged aside and forgotten) and crowding in close to dip her head down the few centimeters it took to give him another kiss. Their bodies hovered so near to one another that she could feel the radiating heat of him despite their collective layers of clothing and armor. 

“If you want to stop for any reason,” Kai said, before she got too lost in it and forgot, “or if I do something you don’t like, just say so, and I’ll stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” the Mandalorian said, squeezing her hands.

“Great,” she replied breathlessly. She closed the minuscule distance remaining between them, pulling him close with an arm around his waist. He made another soft, choked off noise and arched toward her, the back of his helmet tapping against the wall behind him. Kai cupped her other hand around the back of his helmet, knowing he would hardly feel the difference between that and the wall, but wanting to do it anyway, to cradle him in her body until he remembered what it meant to feel safe and protected. 

They sank back until Kai had him pressed against the wall, the Mandalorian hesitantly touching her waist, her back, panting softly. He was made up of cool, hard-edged planes of armor dividing soft fields of warm human body, all pressed up against the length of her, yearning closer; Kai ducked her face into the crook of his neck and breathed in the familiar scent of him -- a little earthy, a little sweaty, real and ordinary, but extraordinary for being him. 

“Can I take your armor off, Mando?” She breathed against his neck.

The Mandalorian shook his head, helmet bumping her a little. “I’ll do it.”

Kai leaned back just enough to let him start with his one remaining glove, then his vambraces, but kept touching him: stroking the unarmored small of his back in slow circles, distracting him with kisses. He squirmed and swore more than once, nearly dropping a vambrace before shoving it onto the table. 

He needed a little more space to unfasten the pauldrons, chestplate, and backplate, so Kai moved with him. She let her hands play around his waist, smoothing a palm over his abdomen and feeling his muscles jump. It would have been easy to delve beneath the thick canvas jacket and get her hands on him directly, but there was a headier anticipation in waiting and watching, letting him un-armor and undress himself for her, letting him peel back the layers both literal and figurative that usually made him seem untouchable. 

Cuirass pieces set aside with care, cape detached and folded, belt and blaster removed, the Mandalorian bent to deal with his cuisses and boots. It was something of a ritual, Kai knew, just as much as putting the armor back on was: each step had its place and its order. She left him to it for a moment, shucking her own leather jacket, shirt, and breast band with little fanfare, and putting her blaster and knives on the table next to his. They looked good there together. 

When she turned back, the Mandalorian was kneeling on the floor, boots off, bare hands slack on his thighs, looking up at her. “Oh,” Kai said softly, stricken; she had never seen him so sweet and soft.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, hushed, almost reverent.

Kai reached out with a little laugh, letting him lean his face into her hand with a breathy sigh. “That’s my line, sweetheart,” she teased, and said it back to him anyway, because it was true. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” He squirmed a little, the muscles of his shoulders subtly bunching and shifting; she marveled that she could see that now, with the armor gone. 

One last barrier to remove. Kai touched the zipper at his throat, murmuring, “My turn?” The Mandalorian swallowed and nodded, so she pulled the zipper down, crouching before him to get it all the way down. She pushed the jacket off his shoulders, and pulled the thin undershirt over his head. Underneath, he was leanly muscled and well scarred and so, so beautiful. She told him so again, kneeling with him, picking up his hands to kiss them both. His breath hitched. 

Kai skated her hands up his arms slowly, feeling him start to tremble, nudged her knees between his to get closer, and wrapped her arms around him again, bringing them, finally, skin to skin. The Mandalorian clutched at her back with a sudden moan, spreading his knees wide and arching to get even closer, panting quiet little whimpery breaths. 

“Beautiful, beautiful,” Kai murmured helplessly, overcome. She held him tightly as he shuddered hard, put her face against his throat again as he threw his head back and bared it, held him and let him break open all at once with a sob. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” she said against his skin, every word a kiss. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart, I’m here.” 

“Please, please,” the Mandalorian gasped. He was still trying to get closer, practically climbing into her lap, brushing up against her crotch and the erection that Kai became suddenly, viscerally aware of at that moment, making her jolt like she had been hit by an electroshock probe.

“Fuck,” she said shakily. “Bunk?” He nodded and gave an emphatic “ _nngh!_ ”

She hauled them both to their feet and the two of them, both unwilling to let go of the other, shuffled unsteadily together barely two steps before one of them tripped and sent them falling against the closed weapons cabinet, the Mandalorian’s back to the cool metal and Kai colliding with his front. Kai laughed, but the Mandalorian sucked in a sharp breath and wrapped one leg up around her hip and clung, rolling his body up against hers like a wild, wanton thing, like he couldn’t help himself, making wounded little sounds as he did.

Kai groaned, because he felt fantastic against her, but grabbed his hips and pressed back against the cabinet to make him stop. He moaned at that, too, straining just a little in her hold, as though he wanted to feel it more than he wanted to get free. 

“You are fucking fantastic,” Kai said fervently, “but you need to _wait_ , Mando. Pants off and get in the bunk, or we’ll both regret it later. . . . Probably.” She waited until he stilled a little and nodded and put his leg back down, which took a moment, and then shifted back just far enough to undo his fly before pulling his trousers, underwear, and socks off all in one go. The last thing he had on was a groin protector, which was sensible considering the risks of his profession. He scrambled to remove it himself, and the heartfelt groan of relief when he freed his own flushed-hard erection from it made Kai wince in sympathy. She gently pushed him toward the bunk, where he crawled in head first and got on his back. Kai stripped her own remaining clothing and boots off with alacrity and crawled in after.

Both of them shuddered when Kai slotted back into place between the Mandalorian’s thighs, their cocks bumping softly together. Kai grabbed his hips and held him still again, before he could take off thrusting the way she knew he wanted to. “Hold still,” she ordered breathlessly, “or this is going to be over very quickly.”

The Mandalorian squirmed restlessly against her hold, panting, trying to pull her down to him. “Ma’am,” he begged shamelessly, “ _please_ , I want --”

“Just hold still and let me take care of you,” Kai said soothingly, but firmly. She took one hand off his hip and lowered herself down to lean on an elbow; he wrapped himself around her again and sighed. 

Kai rolled her hips as slowly as she could, dragging the length of her cock against the Mandalorian’s with delicious friction, panting against his shoulder. The Mandalorian moaned, still pushing up into her hold, hooking a heel around the back of her knee. “That’s it, sweetheart,” Kai said breathlessly, “just let me -- _nnh_.” His cock twitched and twitched, spooling out a little dribble of precum. She rolled her hips against him again, again, again, so agonizingly slowly, losing track of her words. The whole world narrowed down to the Mandalorian beneath her: to touching him, holding him, to the rhythm of his ragged moans with each long thrust -- until, without warning, he shuddered and dug his fingertips into her back and came with a shout, ejaculating a hot splash between their bellies. 

Kai gathered him close and kissed him reverently, murmuring, “Sweetheart, Mando, _yes_.” She pressed kisses to his helmet, to his throat, petting his sides as he shivered in the aftermath, hips twitching, saying her name. “Yes, yes,” she panted, starting to move again, “let me give you more --”

She thrust into the slickness between them, feeling his cock soften and grinding against his groin instead. He must have been oversensitive right after coming, but the Mandalorian clung to her still, whimpering a litany of “Ma’am, yes, _yes_ , oh _fuck_ \--” So she continued, faster, finding her pleasure in his body, pressing her forehead to his helmet to resist the rising urge to bite and claim him, until, until, until her veins felt all filled with fire and her belly pooled with a roil of lava -- and she groaned and squeezed her eyes shut and came. 

Kai opened her eyes after a few long moments. She had collapsed onto the Mandalorian’s chest; they were both breathing heavily. She lifted her head to look at him, though of course the helmet’s expression never changed. “Mando?” She said. “You okay?”

“ _Mmmmmh_ ,” was the Mandalorian’s dreamy-sounding reply.

She smirked at him, but insisted, “Give me a yes or no, sweetheart.”

“...Yeah,” he said, reacting slowly.

“Okay.” Kai pushed herself up to get off of him, which he protested with a whine. She stroked his chest in a way that she meant to be soothing, but which made him shiver and push into it; he was still wanting, yearning to be touched. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” she reassured him, kissing him again for good measure. “Just let me get resettled.”

“Mmh.” He acquiesced, letting Kai slide out of his grip when she shifted over to the side, keeping his visor pointed towards her as she awkwardly shuffled around until she got the thin, worn blanket out from under them. She nudged him onto his side, settled in close behind him, and pulled the blanket over the both of them, hoping to forestall any unpleasant chills when they inevitably cooled down in the near future. 

The Mandalorian sighed deeply and pushed back into her, trying to maximize the contact between them; Kai helped, wrapping an arm around to pull herself closer, bending her knees up behind his, plastering her cum-smeared groin against his ass. They were both sticky, sweaty messes, and the bunk was far too cramped for two tall bipeds, and Kai’s nose was awkwardly jammed against the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet, but that was alright; that was worth it, to envelop the Mandalorian in touch the way he wanted, to give him this warm soft place to land when he came back down from whatever dreamy height he had floated to. 

Kai stroked her hand slowly up and down his chest, over his hip and thigh and back again, listening to his soft wordless noises, craning her neck to kiss his shoulder whenever he shivered. She was coming down from the scene too, and despite the physical languidness that afterglow induced in her, she felt suddenly like she had just retreated from the edge of a ravine after having stared down into an endless abyss. The scene had not gone the way she had envisioned, the two of them instead falling headlong into an intensity, an urgency, that she doubted either of them could have predicted. They had set each other aflame and burned together, burned up, hot and fast. 

Next time, she wanted to give him the scene that she had intended today. She wanted to take things slow and give him an experience less fleeting, but no less intense. She wanted to map every inch of his body with her touch, wanted to draw him down slowly into a vast ocean of sensation, letting him drown in it for as long as he dared before surfacing. 

“Mmh,” the Mandalorian said again, after some time. This time it sounded more definite, like he had regained conscious control of his voice.

“Mando?” Kai checked.

She heard him swallow. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “I’m back.”

“Were you in subspace?”

“Yeah -- yes, ma’am.”

Kai smiled without meaning to, turning her face into his shoulder to hide it even though he couldn’t see it anyway. “I like it when you call me ma’am,” she confessed.

“I like it too, ma’am,” he said softly.

They were quiet for a long moment.

“Did you -- was it -- was it a good scene? For you?” Kai asked, uncertainly. She had to ask. It was her responsibility to make sure.

“Mm. Yes.” She thought maybe his voice had a smile in it then, but couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

“Was it good for you?” The Mandalorian asked, an uncertain note to his own voice.

“Wonderful,” Kai said sincerely. He relaxed against her fully at that, losing tension she hadn’t realized he was still carrying. She kissed his shoulder again and gave him a squeeze, and he put his hand over hers.

“Is there anything you need for aftercare?” She asked. “Mm, I should have asked before.”

“No,” he said. “It’s fine.”

The Mandalorian didn’t move, though, and didn’t tell Kai to stop what she was doing, so she stayed and kept petting him for a long while.

\- - - - - -

Din Djarin sat at his _alor’_ s table and waited for her to acknowledge him. This time, she was busy casting and then hammering a beskar helmet, sized for one of the foundlings just old enough to take the Creed and don the helm. It was one of the more time-consuming pieces to create, and usually, waiting for so long before the Forge, the _alor_ , and the safety they represented would have him feeling a little fuzzy around the edges, awareness narrowing in gradually but inexorably. Today, however, he felt sharp and solid and calm, like a finely crafted blade waiting impassively for use. The _alor_ ’s hammering and the hissing of the Forge did not fill up his awareness entirely; he could also hear, through his helmet’s audio sensors, the soft murmuring of _Mando’ade_ and the quiet play of the younger children in the tunnel behind him. In another chamber nearby, the cooks were making preparations for the next meal. Next door, the teenagers and young adults were practicing hand-to-hand.

When the _alor_ was ready, she joined him at the table, and they began the usual ritual. Din placed the credits from his latest round of bounties on the table; the _alor_ took them and praised him for his contribution. Usually, the praise would be enough to intensify the fuzzy-around-the-edges feeling; sometimes it alone was enough to make him want to kneel. Today, however, he merely felt good. Proud, that his _alor_ found his contributions to the Tribe praiseworthy. 

“Please reserve some for the Foundlings,” Din said, the next step in the ritual.

“Of course,” replied the _alor_. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Din repeated.

The _alor_ looked at him silently for a moment, which was unusual. “Do you require a scene?” She asked, which was not.

“No,” Din replied.

She looked at him longer. She had always been uncannily good at reading body language, even for a Mandalorian born into the Creed. “You have found a partner,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Are they trustworthy?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t offended that she had asked; she wasn’t questioning his judgment, just looking after his welfare. “It’s Kai,” he added. 

“The one who was raised as a Foundling,” the _alor_ said. 

“Yes.”

“That is good,” the _alor_ declared, surprising him a little, even though she had given him no reason to think that she disapproved of Kai. “Is it a long-term arrangement?”

Din resisted the urge to fidget uncomfortably by dint of long practice. “...I’m not sure,” he admitted. He thought it likely that Kai’s offer was meant to be long term, but neither of them had stated explicit terms.

“Find out,” the _alor_ said. “Though I am happy to fulfill my responsibility to see to your needs, it would be beneficial for you to have a dedicated partner.” She nodded at him, seeming to indicate whatever she had deduced about him. “It is already beneficial to you.”

“Yes, _alor_ ,” Din said. 

The ritual was complete. Din left the covert and went back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations adapted from [mandoa.org](http://mandoa.org):
> 
>   * _uj'alayi_ : (a Mandalorian food) uj cake - dense, very sweet flat cake made of ground nuts, syrup, pureed dried fruit and spice
>   * _buir_ : parent
>   * _Manda'yaim_ : the planet Mandalore
>   * _alor_ : leader (in this case, the Armorer)
>   * _Mando'ade_ : Mandalorians (pl) - children of Mandalore
> 

> 
> Also, Din’s version of an eye-roll is [this Mark Harmon mannerism](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9b09049850d8ba95dd3fe3fffe355f74/tumblr_inline_orv75bD8U61qmpb1b_500.gifv).


End file.
